Текст песни Ольга Ковалёва. - Ой, цвети, кудрявая рябина.

Oh, bloom, curly rowan,
Pour, bunches, with spring juice.
And the other day at the far barn
I met a guy I was not from here.

He said: "I came to the mowing.
We will mow the grass in the meadows.
And I will get along with the stubble of the machine.
I will live on your collective farm. "

Blouses are blue and the smell of poplars,
He came from the city, and I came from the fields.
Lark hover, hover over me,
My heart is full of love and spring.

With him we are together in the fields of collective farm
Let's drive steel tractors.
In a round dance, we are not more fun,
And in work we are always ahead.

The curly mountain ash has faded,
The bunches were poured with spring juice.
And now at the far barn
Oh, I say goodbye to a guy I'm not from here ...